The Legend Of Dragoon: Arisen Legacy
by Archangel and Spike2
Summary: Reboot of TLOD: The Next Generation series. Over six hundred years have passed since the God of Destruction was defeated. Endiness has nearly collapsed within itself due to poverty and despair, and the Dragoons sit atop their political pedestals and do nothing. One man sets out to right the wrongs he sees... Please read and review!
1. Heir of Antiques

Chapter One: Heir of Antiques

Brett Locute was thumbing his way through the newspaper behind the counter of his antique shop. Another day, another half a day's pay. He had begun to count the moments he had remaining in business for the day, as the sun's foot had daintily landed atop the rooftop of the market across the cobblestone street outside. Another fifteen minutes and it would be just dark enough to warrant closing shop and heading home before the streets began to swarm with the most unsavory characters of Hoax.

Brett didn't enjoy being out at night, but he did love where he lived. He adored the historical significance of his town, and treasured the testament to valuable items of a time long past that he'd inherited from his father. It was the only antique shop for miles, and as long as there were old folks with old money, he'd have just enough to keep his head above water; regardless of the steadily declining economy.

Suddenly, the entrance bell rang, and in walked a younger man, with a hood drawn over his head, which was ducked down. Brett closed the newspaper and leaned forward on his stool and placed his elbows on the checkout counter. "Hi there, looking for anything in particular?"

The young man slowed his pace and turned his head just enough for Brett to catch an eye. He was nervous…

"Oh, uh… not anything in particular, just something nice to get for my mother…" He stuttered.

"Aaaahh, your mom likes antiques?" Brett asked, standing up from his stool, placing his palm lightly on the counter instead. He walked around to the edge of the counter.

"Y-Yeah, what are some of the more pertinent things you have here?" The young man asked.

"Pertinent? You mean of historical _value?_ " Brett asked. The day was almost over, he wasn't about to waste time with either an unsure shopper or a possible robbery. He'd placed that word in his sentence intentionally to gauge the response of his customer.

"Yeah! Valuable, she sent me in to get something no one else has, something she can brag about, you know?" The man's expression had gone from nervous to nervously hopeful. It was the look of a first time criminal that was starting to think he just might get away with something.

"Okay, well look no further," Brett said. "Does she like gold? Silver? Rubies?"

"Gold. I-I have plenty of money, she gave it to me. Just said get whatever has plenty of gold."

"I bet she did," Brett said, turning on his heel and heading for his dummy item. He'd chase the young man off if he preferred it to the smaller item that actually held significance.

He came back with a shield, and a palm sized coin. He held the coin out first. "This right here is a pretty decent chunk of history; Hoax history, if you could believe it. It – "

"-The other one."

"The shield crest?" Brett asked, following the direction of the young man's finger to the larger item in his other hand. It was a beautiful design, a stern looking sun, made of nickel, that had been painted gold, with false rubies held in the tendrils of its rays. It probably cost Brett about 5 Gold, but with it consistently aiding Brett in identifying criminals and idiots, it was priceless to him.

"Definitely, she will love that."

"Good! It only costs about-" Suddenly Brett was shoved backwards by the young man, into a shelf. The thief quickly grabbed the dummy crest and tore out the door, turning right and disappearing out of view from the windows out front. Brett stood up quickly and walked to the door, he stuck his head out and looked left, and right. "Guess I'll just have to buy another one tomorrow and rough it up a bit," he spoke softly to himself. He closed the door and locked it from the inside. He slowly dimmed the lights, chuckling to himself.

He sat back down and began to collect his things in the failing light. He'd be back again in the morning, through the day, and the next day, and the next day, and so on... But that was fine.

* _Knock, Knock, Knock*_

Brett looked up to see a figure at the door. It wasn't an unheard of occurrence, but it certainly wasn't welcome.

"Closed for the day, thanks!" Brett shouted from his perch. Three slow knocks came in response. Brett sighed, and walked over to the door. He cracked it open and looked around through the threshold. What he beheld then _was_ a first.

He saw a tall man, with brown hair that was short on the sides and longer on the top. His longer hair was folded back away from his face. He had brown eyes, that stared sternly at Brett. A short beard covered his lower face, above a thick neck and muscular build. He wore a brown leather jacket, and dark gray cargo pants that were tucked into brown leather boots that had seen quite a bit of roadway in their lifetime. What Brett found so astounding about this man's presence, however, was what was in his hands. Dangling with his own feet a few inches off the ground, was the thief from a few minutes ago!

"This young man tells me he's got something of yours," The stranger said in a deep, calm voice.

"Uh, yeah, he ran off with a shield crest a few minutes ago," Brett answered, unable to remove the quizzical look from his face. "But-"

"Give it back." The man ordered. Without hesitation the thief placed the shield crest before him and Brett accepted it.

"Th…thanks?" Brett said, utterly confused. Finally he managed to snap out of it. "Did you realize this thing is relatively worthless?"

"What?" The man asked. His eyes lit up with worry. He'd risked so much, and even with success, he'd have gained nothing. He then looked to the stranger again, and back to the street, in shame.

"Don't go anywhere," Brett told him, then turned to the stranger. "You can set him down now. How is your arm not screaming from holding a person?"

"I keep my muscles busy." The man said dismissively. He lowered the man down, but kept hold of his jacket. The young man's eyes didn't lift from behind his blonde, curled hair. They did, occasionally dart toward his keeper. He was obviously afraid of him for some reason…

Brett asked them to wait for a moment, stepped inside and then came back to the door. "Did we learn something this evening?" He asked the boy. A weak nod was all he got in response. "Good, do you know what you're going to get now?"

The young man's eyes darted up in fear, he looked to Brett, then – much more fearfully- to the stranger.

"Calm down," laughed Brett. He held out his hand, and gave the boy 10 Gold. The boy took the money slowly, and stared his question loudly to Brett.

"Why am I giving you money after stealing from me?" Brett asked. The boy could still do no more than give a quizzical, untrusting look in response. "You aren't a criminal, pal. What's your name?"

"…Jonathan," replied the repentant thief.

"Okay Jonathan," Brett responded. "You look like your… I don't know, twenty? Just a few years younger than myself, and you probably didn't steal an antique shield crest because you wanted to get your mom something for cheap, am I right?"

A cautious nod came from the boy as an answer.

"So how about we just forget you did that, but no more stealing. If you are ever thinking that you're so desperate that you need to steal again, come see me here. I'm sure I can come up with some odd job here for you to get you a little money to keep you afloat until you find yourself some form of income…" His eyes then looked up to the stranger. "What's your name, sir?"

The stranger looked confused…and possibly a little angry at what was unfolding before his eyes, but answered. "Sean."

"Sean here probably didn't want to spend this much of his night with two strangers, but I'm glad he brought you back here. Come by and see me sometime Jonathan, the world doesn't have to breed nothing but criminals and desperates." To top off his speech Brett grabbed a book and set it in the boys jacket pocket. "There are some good stories in there, true stories about what people can do, even with all odds against them. Read through it and see if you don't catch a little inspiration. Have a good night," Brett finished, dismissing him.

The young man walked quickly away from the awkward scene, Brett looked around and realized night had totally fallen on Hoax now. "Hey Sean, care to have a drink?"

It was Sean's turn to look quizzical. He looked down to his chest, and then back up to Brett. "Are you always this generous?"

"Nope! But I do know that having a few sips of liquid courage helps the nerves with walking home once it gets dark in this neighborhood. Come on in," Brett said, swinging the door fully open and turning inside. He sat down behind the counter that would now serve as the tavern bar for a few drinks with this new acquaintance. As he raised his head to look, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the aisle, and smiled. He was proud of how he'd handled that tonight… his father would have been proud, too. He reached behind the back of his head to scratch his short blonde hair. And as his eyes trailed off he caught another glimpse of Sean in the mirror looking at his chest, and then he rolled his eyes and sighed as he looked up.

"Hey, if you don't want to have a drink that's fine, I just thought it would be polite to ask. Sean, right?" Brett asked, trying to spark up conversation.

"Uh, yeah." Sean replied shuffling with something under his shirt collar and sitting down on the other side of the counter. "It's fine, I've actually got nowhere else to be."

"Good then, you drink whiskey?" Brett asked turning around to grab the bottle that his lowest filing cabinet served to hide.

"Not picky." Sean responded. Brett chuckled.

"You don't get into a lot of conversations, do you?"

"Not the kind you'd think I would, no."

"What kind DO you get into then, Sean?" Brett asked. Sean shuffled a little in his seat, and scratched the back of his own head with a strange look on his face that told Brett he really didn't want to talk about it. "Gotcha, okay then, how'd you meet Jonathan out there?"

"Oh, I thought the kid had something I was looking for. When I talked to him, the little bastard tried to pull a knife on me. I could tell it was the first time he'd ever held it in defense, so I started asking what he was doing when I took it from him," Sean answered, rather casually.

"Poor kid, are you a knight of some kind?" Brett asked.

"…Of some kind," Sean answered. "That's actually what I'm looking for."

"Another knight?" Brett asked.

"As many as I can get," Sean answered.

Brett was growing more and more intrigued by the story Sean wasn't fully divulging that he'd completely forgotten to slide Sean the glass of whiskey. After analyzing his words for a moment he slid it over to him, and watched Sean take a sip. Brett then took a sip himself. He watched Sean's shoulders relax a little as he looked around the store, but then his eyes fell to the floor.

"Is that what I think it is?" Sean asked.

Brett leaned over the counter to see what he was looking at, and on the floor was the coin that Brett had dropped when Jonathan had shoved him. He jogged over to it, picked it up, and dusted it off. "Sure is, you recognize it?"

"I've heard about the Dragoon coins before, and I'm not ignorant to what town we're sipping whiskey in right now," Sean said. Brett let him hold and examine the coin. Sean was right. This very coin had been fastened to the very street as a monument to the area that Dart Feld had first become the Fire Dragoon over six hundred years ago. It had been replaced some years ago with statues, commissioned by the government, along with all its relatives at all the previous coin locations.

"Yeah," Brett said, when Sean handed the coin back to him. "These things are real history…. INTERESTING history, I can't get enough of all those Dragoon stories. It's a shame that all the remaining Dragoons keep winding up as politicians nowadays."

"…Indeed." Sean said. "That, actually has something to do with what I'm doing in Hoax tonight. I'm looking for someone to help me find some historical relics. I need someone who knows those old stories. I saw the Tale of the Dragoons that you put in the boy's pocket. I'm guessing you know those stories really well?"

"Like the back of my hand," Brett said with confidence. Out of all of the history of the continent of Endiness, nothing even remotely compared to the excitement of the Dragoons. Brett considered himself a touch obsessed.

"Good, think you can help me?" Sean inquired. His eyebrows were raised in a strange sort of surprise.

"What do you need to know?" Brett asked.

"Locations. I need to know where the last dragons fell," Sean Said. Brett slowly lowered his glass to the counter.

Immediately after the gentle glass-on-glass tick, Brett asked "the last dragons?"

"Well, specifically, Feyrbrand, Regole, and I'd like to know where the Divine Tree is," Sean continued. "I've got a….source… that tells me that when these immortal dragons die they leave their spirit behind, whether they choose a bearer or not. I need to verify that."

Brett was staring Sean intensely in the eye… he wanted to find Dragon Spirits? Why?

"Yes, I'm looking for Dragon Spirits," Sean said. He then reached behind his shirt collar and pulled out a necklace with a gray-green orb on the end, divided in the center by a red, reptilian slit. "More than what there were at first."

Brett was dumbfounded. "I-you…we want- you.. YOU want me to tell you where to find Dragon Spirits?"

"I don't recall stuttering." Sean answered.

"How would you think there would be a spirit to find?" Brett asked.

"Simple… I've already found one, it's what I came here looking for. " Sean pulled a different orb out of his jacket pocket that shimmered with a bright violet light, dimmed in the center by a black dragon's pupil.

Brett was desperately trying to process the portents of this experience, and found himself filling his glass far taller with whiskey than the first time. He took a large gulp, and pointed to what looked like the Violet Dragoon Spirit. "May I?"

"Certainly," Sean said. As he turned his palm over and dropped the Spirit into Brett's open palm the entire store lit up with brilliant light. "I've found the spirit, and I just found him a bearer."

Brett held tightly to the Dragoon Spirit. It was buzzing in his palm, and staring him in the eye. He finished the glass of whiskey, poured another, and finished that one as well. When he set the empty glass down, he looked up to Sean and said the only word that he could conjure up, but tried his best to form it as a question. "Explain?"

Author's Note: Hi there! Spike here returning from an 11 year long sabbatical. For any of those who would remember, my co writer Archangel and I wrote the Legend of Dragoon: The Next Generation series. If that doesn't ring a bell, don't worry. We talked recently about completely revamping the whole series, because we love what we created here, and we missed you guys. However, we felt we could do MUCH better. So here it goes, a few names have changed, and a few have been added. The scenario will be very different, and hopefully all the writing will be much faster. I'm kind of spear heading things here, but Archangel will be involved the whole way as much as he can. He's busy being an author of his own original works, if any of you are interested in checking that out, please let us know in the reviews; and please tell us what you think of this story. Thanks!


	2. Dragon of the Purple Flame

Chapter Two: Dragon of Purple Flame

"Explain what?" Sean asked.

Brett's mouth hung open. Sean sat before him with a patient look on his face, as if he was enjoying Brett's confusion. It ruffled his feathers a bit.

"All.. all that," Brett said, feeling hot under the collar. He wasn't sure if it was his pure, unadulterated confusion, or the several ounces of whiskey he'd gulped down to help absorb this moment.

Sean began to chuckle, but then stopped and looked down to his necklace again. Brett followed his eyes, and noticed the red pupil looking up to him, making eye contact with its wearer.

"That's a great start," Brett said pointing a finger to what could only be the Divine Dragoon Spirit. "That Spirit has been missing since Dart Feld died."

" _Missing_ is a term of perspective," Sean countered. "It was missing to humans, but it had keepers for the centuries since Dart's decision to keep it from any hand that may abuse the power."

"Okay…. And those keepers were…" Brett prompted. Sean looked down to his chest again, and Brett felt his blood pressure hit a boiling point. "Why do you keep looking at that-" As he shouted Sean grabbed the wrist of his hand holding the violet Dragoon Spirit and touched it to the Spirit on his necklace.

 _-finally found a more pathetic Dragoon than you!_ Came a mighty roar from inside Brett's mind. His blue eyes flew open wide and met immediately with Sean's. Yet while Brett's eyes were of surprise, Sean's showed a strange form of satisfaction. He let go of Brett's wrist and when he pulled away, the voice was stifled. Brett kept staring at Sean, and his jaw felt like it was only inches away from crashing through the glass counter.

"Did I just hear a Dragon?" Brett asked.

"You did," Sean answered.

"Was that THE Divine Dragon?" Brett continued.

"In all his glory, isn't he a sweetheart?" Sean answered.

"Not really!"

"Nope." Sean said. He tucked the Spirit inside his shirt again. " He met the only person he's ever respected in Dart Feld, and when Dart handed him over to the Winglies in Ulara days before his death, it angered him a bit. He doesn't care too much for Winglies."

"The Dragon Campaign?"

"While he wasn't interested in helping humans, the Winglies imprisoned him for eleven thousand years in Mount Mortal Dragon's volcano, should he change his mind. Even magic fades with time, and eventually he found his way out, attacking everything he remembered belonged to the Winglies. Unfortunately for him, the Crystal Palace was under human occupation, with Dart and his crew as guests at the time. They dealt with him, and in turn he helped Dart save the world."

"I heard him insult the both of us," Brett said. "If he doesn't respect you, then how can you wield him?"

"That's a great question," Sean said. He furrowed his brow a moment, looking off into the nonexistent distance, as if he was trying to figure out what to say next. "We met when I was a child, he picked me then. The law goes, if a Dragoon Spirit shows you loyalty, it's yours until it chooses someone else. He's never met anyone he hates less than me, I suppose."

"What a heartwarming story," Brett finished facetiously. He was willing to let Sean's life story go a mystery for the time being. What he wanted to know, was how he'd come across this Violet Dragoon Spirit.

 _I am not the Violet Dragon you know of,_ came another voice inside Brett's mind. The voice had a hum behind it, and was higher pitched than the Divine Dragon's. Brett very slowly turned his eyes to the jewel in his hand, which was looking right back at him.

"So that's what that looks like from the other end of the world…" Sean mused, placing his hand on his chin, watching Brett. He lifted his whiskey and took a larger sip this time. Brett looked back to him.

"How do I talk to it?" Brett asked.

Sean shrugged "However you want, he can hear you think. He may consider it a bit more respectful if you speak out loud when you can get away with it." Brett nodded.

"What do you mean… uh…" Brett began, looking for a name.

 _My given name was shared with my maker, the Violet Dragon. I am his Vassal. I was created when he sacrificed himself to the Dragon Campaign._ The Violet Dragon answered. _I survived, hidden from humans after the Dragon Campaign for millennia, I was living in the forest when Doel found me, with my maker's spirit, he lured me in… and betrayed me…_

"The purple flame of Black Castle in Kazas…" Brett said.

 _Indeed. I was mutilated; my power harnessed without my will, drawn from my spirit with evil, merciless magic. It was torturous, but as my heart had quit beating, I remained locked inside my body, refusing to choose a bearer within that place, but forced to aid Doel's machinations in their operation… his purple flame…._

"I'm.. so sorry…" Brett said. Somehow this creature's memories were triggering a deep emotional agony within himself. What was happening?

 _I will stop,_ The Violet Dragon said. _Whether they knew or not, Dart and his friends freed me from my torture, and while I could not leave that place, my suffering stopped, and that was peace enough for me…_

"What a dreary existence." Brett said. "You must hate humans." Sean cocked an eyebrow, but Brett could see he didn't want to ask what they were talking about.

 _I hate evil, and many creatures are capable of that. Though it seems, if my conversations with my liege are true, that humans are excelling in atrocity these last few eons…_

"Well I can't speak very well for us as a whole," Brett said.

 _I wouldn't expect you to try… I can tell that you've realized that a connection between a Dragon and it's Dragoon are more than just the human and their armor. We are connected spiritually as well. I admit. I struck first in that dimension… I wanted to see what was in your heart before I was sure you'd be the one I could give my protection to. That is a two way street, though._

"Protection?"

 _You ARE my Dragoon, Brett._ The Dragon said. _I have seen your heart, and I approve.. You disdain violence, yet a problem that demands it will not see you turn your back from it. Had it been you that came upon me in the forest so many years ago, I doubt my fate would have come rushing at me so quickly…_

Brett was touched at the compliments this Dragon was giving him, but he had one question he had to ask out loud, and not to the Dragon. He looked to Sean again. "I'm the…uh one of the Violet Dragoons?"

"Seems that way," Sean said, setting down an empty glass. Brett furrowed his own brow now, and poured them each another glass.

"Well….I don't know that I can do that. The Dragoons make big changes in the world, they-"

"What big changes have they made?" Sean interrupted.

"Huh?"

"Since saving the planet from destruction at the hands of Melbu Frahma, what has changed?" Sean repeated.

"I..well in times of peace a warrior must play the diplomat," Brett said.

"In times of peace the Dragoons should be waiting," Sean said. "The more active they are, the more 'blood does flow'" he said, reciting the old poem.

"They're politicians… they make laws trying to help the people of Endiness.." Brett said.

 _How is that working?_

"How is that working?" Sean repeated the Dragon.

Brett shut his mouth and pressed his lips together, looking for a retort. "I…I can't leave the shop unattended, it'll be empty when I come back… What am I saying!? Where am I going?! I don't do adventure!"

"It seems you have a larger calling reserved for you than antique shop owner, Brett." Sean said, he lifted his glass to cheers Brett, and took a large sip.

Brett was feeling far more like he'd been backed into a corner than offered an opportunity… he looked Sean in the eye, and back down to the Spirit.

 _I've seen the very worst of your species, Brett. But I was born watching both my species AND yours be the best of what they are… I am prepared to help you, and if you comply, I promise to protect you as best as I can throughout whatever it is we are being led towards,_ Offered the Violet Dragon.

That reminded Brett of one glaring hole in all that was being discussed here. He grasped the Spirit, and looked to Sean again. "You said you were a knight looking for as many knights as you could get…"

"Yes…" Sean said.

"What for?" Brett said.

"War is coming," Sean answered, finishing his glass. He exhaled against the bite of the whiskey, and looked to Brett. "I have spent most of my life alone with The Divine Dragon, learning to fight, learning how to wield power to make things right. The longer I fought, the longer I…. WE both saw that what we were doing wasn't getting us lasting results. Something is going on in the circle of Dragoons at the top of their political spheres… I know because they tried to kill me when I confronted them."

"Really… no questions, no accusations, just tried to kill you?" Brett said.

"Believe it or not, yes," Sean said. This was the first time Sean hadn't looked like he had thought about how to answer Brett's question. Brett had to take it as truth… which was terrifying.

"And you think I'm going to jump right into…" Brett waved his hand at Sean…" …all that."

"I think that I followed my Dragoon Spirit, which was following the directions from YOUR Dragoon Spirit, to you," Sean answered. Again, no hesitation. "Over six hundred years ago, Haschel of the Broken Islands was on his way out the door to go home when the first Violet Dragoon Spirit chose him to bear it's armor… Tell me what he did."

Brett felt his shoulders sag. "…He turned around and joined the Dragoons."

"He abandoned his own aspirations and turned back because he had this same calling. I don't know what they're doing, but I do know that everyone is aware that this world is falling apart slowly, and if the Dragoons are doing anything about it at all, it isn't helping," Sean said.

 _I will allow you to lie to yourself if you please… but I know that you were looking at yourself in the mirror earlier, feeling pride in the justice of your actions…_ Said the Dragon. _Sean will not say it, but he needs you… he needs every ounce of help he can get._

"…Give me the night to get my affairs in order," Brett said after a moment. "Can you promise I'll survive?"

"I promise I'll do what I can to keep you alive. Stay close to me and do as I say." Sean said. At that he got up and headed to the door. As it opened he spoke one last time "I'll be back at sunrise to collect you, if you decide to come." Then the door swung shut, leaving Brett alone. He placed the Dragoon Spirit on the table, and walked into his office to find his vacation notations for the window, questioning why this all seemed so easy.

"Ugh…"

 _I trust my leader, Brett. You had every right to be proud of yourself tonight, perhaps you should trust the man who wields my leader, as your leader. It may lead to a lifetime of that feeling,_ The Violet Dragoon said.

Brett scratched the back of his head again. "…Look, if I'm going to do this, and I think you know that I am better than I do, I have to do one thing."

 _What is that?_

"I have to give you some sort of name. I can't keep calling you THE Violet Dragon, when there is another out there, would you mind?" Brett asked.

 _Not at all, what name would you like to call me?_

"…Alastor," Brett answered after some thought.

 _Ah, your father's name?_

"Yes, he had a way about leading me around in our conversations, to the proper conclusion. I don't know how much help I'll be to Sean in the long run. But if I'm a Dragoon, I guess I have an obligation to do my best…

 _…Alastor it is, thank you, Brett._

"Let's just hope what you see in me is well founded," Brett said, turning the lights down and stepping out the back door.

Sean had turned left from Brett's shop, and left again into the next narrow alley.

He checked behind him, in front of him, and finally above him. When he was sure no one was nearby, he closed his eyes and concentrated, the Dragoon Spirit of the most powerful Dragon to ever soar above Endiness shimmered brightly underneath his jacket and shirt, and wrapped Sean in a gray light with accents of seven other colors. When the light died down, Sean was relatively unchanged; in this form of Dragoon, Sean was scraping only the surface of his Spirit's power, it provided a boost in strength, speed, and allowed him to fly. Two silver wings sprouted from his shoulder blades, and with one beat boosted Sean to the rooftop.

Just as he reached the arch of his bound, the light died, and he landed on the ledge of the old roof, high above the street. He placed a hand in between his feet, and sat down to the ledge, dangling his feet over. He looked all about the town of Hoax, listening to the sounds of the night.

The meeting had gone well, in his opinion. One more enlightened soul.

 _You've simply no luck. We find a Dragoon Spirit, and he chose the owner of an antique shop, with seemingly no battle experience at all,_ growled the Divine Dragon inside Sean's mind.

"You don't hold any hope for the future, do you?" Sean replied.

 _Certainly not if the rest of your allies – should we find any- are anything like him,_ answered the Dragon. _Do you think he will help you find the other Spirits?_

"Assuming that you were right about the other Dragon Spirits, yes."

 _I am confident._

"You seem to be in a better mood than earlier," Sean said.

 _Even with a weakling, you are better off with allies. You promised to protect him?_

"It was the only way to guarantee his compliance," Sean answered. In the distance, he heard a scream. He sneered. This was what he'd hidden earlier; his bitterness towards whom he was fighting to save. So easily settling into the slop they were thrown by those in power to live with and live in. Many times before in his life he found himself nearly despising those he wished to save. Why keep trying? When the rest of the world seemed to be working against him?

Because the Dragon told him to? No..

Because it was right? Certainly not…

Maybe because of a memory…?

Maybe..

His lower Dragoon form surrounded his body again… in his hand he created a sphere of brilliant magic.. Lethal striking power. No…. Stun. Stun was enough.

A second scream came from down the road, allowing Sean to hone in on his target. He stood up, and reeled his hand back behind his shoulder. He saw the feud before him. A man pulling hard on a bag in a woman's hand, with a wicked smile on his face, and a knife slowly revealing itself behind his back. Sean clasped the magic, and tossed it into the sky. It flew up, over the rooftops, and plummeted down into the roadway.

Suddenly it swooped low and plowed the unrepentant thief in the mouth, lifting him off the ground and causing him to flip backwards before landing on the impact site in the street. The woman turned to look where that ball of light had come from, but missed the dark figure rolling off the ledge to be hidden from her view. Terrified, she fled for shelter.

Sean crossed his legs and his hands. This was a good enough place to rest until morning….

Author's Note: A second Violet Dragoon Spirit?! It would seem this Sean character is intending to confront Dragoons he deems as enemies with some new Dragoons of his own… I'll have the next chapter up as soon as I can. Please Read and Review!


	3. Awaken

Chapter Three: Awaken

Brett opened his eyes, and quickly shut them again tightly as reality, and a great pain in his forehead rushed in. He rubbed hard in between his eyebrows, temporarily relieving the pain. He sat up in his bed, wishing he could question whether or not what he'd experienced last night was a dream.

The violet orb on his nightstand had robbed him of that confusion. He looked to it for a while, but his foremost concern was whether or not he could fit the voice of another being in his head with his loud heartbeat, and the horrible, horrible pain. He threw his feet to the right, and placed them on the floor. He then took the slow, dizzy steps to his bathroom sink, and stuck his mouth below the faucet.

After a few gulps he stood back up and looked at himself in the mirror. Rather than the proud look he'd given himself the night before, and instead of the look of fear and confusion he'd no doubt given Sean, his face showed a kind of certainty, and determination. He'd decided.

"What are you getting yourself into?" Brett asked his reflection. He gave the mirror a few seconds worth of opportunity to answer him. After it decided to simply return his certainty, he turned and walked over to his nightstand, and picked up the Spirit.

"Good morning," Brett opened.

 _Good morning, Brett._

"Sleep well?... Do you sleep?"

 _I do not, but it seems you were sleeping deeply enough._

"I wish I still was," Brett admitted. "But Sean said he'd be back in the morning, so I suppose I'd better get back there."

 _Indeed._

Brett got dressed, and was relieved that his headache was receding quickly. He threw his clothes on, packed another set in a satchel and grabbed about 50 Gold. He stood at his door, looking in from the outside, and questioned if he needed anything else. After deciding not, he closed the door, locked it, and turned around.

As he walked away from his home, he looked back, and had to smirk.

Sean crossed his arms. The sun had been up for an hour, and Brett was nowhere to be found. He looked down the street, left and right again.

"Disappointing," Sean mused. He heard the Divine Dragon snort.

 _I cannot say I am surprised. He seemed completely awestruck and at times terrified during your conversation. Not to mention OUR conversation that you brought him into…_ The Dragon sneered.

Sean rolled his eyes again, and as they came down to his right, he froze as Brett turned the corner, with his hands in his pockets, and a satchel over his shoulder. He was wearing the same black wool pants, and white collared shirt from the night before.

"Good morning," Brett said, approaching.

"You're late, you have no maps, and you have no armor," Sean answered. Brett stopped walking in mid-stride.

"I didn't know that I'd need those supplies, I just brought money," he responed.

"Come with me," Sean said, walking down the street, and approaching a merchant stand on the right. Brett resumed walking with a hastened step to catch up. As Sean reached the merchant, he looked to make sure the man had wares Brett would need. "That leather vest, does it come with the wrist and shin guards beside it?"

The merchant followed his gaze, and scooped both items up. "They sure can, you just need 73 Gold," he answered. Brett double checked his pockets to verify he only had the fifty.

"Sean, I don't-"

"Let's have those with 5 Healing Fogs, two Healing Rains, and a few attack items if you have any," Sean continued. Brett began to shuffle uncomfortably. Sean took notice of this.

"Do you need to use the restroom?"

"No, I don't have that kind of money," Brett said, nervously. He began to feel embarrassed that he hadn't prepared better, not that he had any idea of what he was getting into.

"Who said anything about you paying?" Sean asked.

"What?"

"175 Gold, sir," the merchant said, sliding the items over to Sean, who handed the money over in return. Brett watched the transaction, confused, and excited.

Sean shuffled the items into his own satchel, except for two Healing Fogs and one Burn Out into Bretts, then he quickly threw the vest over Brett's shoulders, and fastened it tightly along the front. He handed the wrist and shin guards over to Brett after the torso protection was secured. "Put these on while we walk."

"Okay then," Brett said. "You, uh, said last night you wanted to seek out Feyrbrand's grave?"

"That would be the closest location to where we are now, after that we'll need to get to Tiberoa and find the Spirit of Regole, the water Dragon. Even I know where to start looking for that," Sean answered.

"Well we just need to head east, for a day or two," Brett said.

"I know how to get to the forest, I'll need your help with scouting for old signs of Dragon travel, and battle," Sean said.

"Fair enough," Brett said. He let his shoulders relax, and looked himself over as he tightened his wrist guards. He'd never worn true armor before, and even though this was far from the top of the line, he was impressed at how it made him feel.

The two men wondered through the streets, heading for the eastern exit of the town of Hoax, talking very little until they reached the exit. They waited through the line before the toll until their turn came.

"Names?" The guard said, not looking up.

"Brett Locute," Brett said. He looked to where Sean had been standing just a moment ago, to find nothing. He looked around for a moment, confused. The guard looked up.

"Oh, pardon me, I could have sworn I'd seen another person. Destination?" He asked.

"Erm…" Brett started. He looked past the toll, only to catch Sean's eye, just beyond the gate, and to see him mouth the word 'Seles'. "Seles, to visit family." He finished, he looked back over to the guard, and noticed he'd been staring with a cocked eyebrow at Brett's pause. After a few seconds he looked back down and made his notes.

"You should arrive at Seles within three days?" The guard asked.

"Sounds about right."

"Very well, happy travels." The guard handed his travel permit slip, and Brett took it and passed through the gate. He walked out, and met up with Sean, who had turned his back and was waiting.

"How did you get out of the gate so quickly?" Brett asked quietly.

"After my battle with the Dragoons I'm worried that the city tolls will be on the lookout for me, and with as often as they monitor citizens going in and going out, as well as their destinations, I'm certain entering and exiting towns the legal way will just result in unwanted attention, and I'd prefer to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible," Sean explained. "You will need to check in to Seles now in three days, four at the most, to avoid any unwanted attention yourself. After that, I will lead you out the quiet way if you wish. If you go that route, however, you'll be bound to our journey until the end."

Brett pondered Sean's words, and shrugged. He was four days from a way out if he decided he'd made a mistake. They turned a corner, and Sean put a hand up, stopping Brett.

"Hang on a moment," Sean said. He walked to the side of the road and stuck his arm in a thick shrub, down towards the root. When he pulled it back out, his hand was clasping a sword, a claymore. The steel shimmered in the sunlight, drawing Brett's eyes to it, and along the blade to the hilt, which bore a red color, and the guards were embroidered to resemble a dragon with seven wings; six were curved upwards towards the tip, but the seventh wing was turned toward the hand that held it, providing it some protection.

"You hid that there?" Brett asked.

"Yes."

"Weren't you worried someone would steal it?" Brett asked, his head cocked to the side, feeling that question was obvious.

"The blade will break in the hands of someone else, you'll see." Sean said simply, strapping the sword to his belt.

The men walked the carved trails through the grasslands for several hours, as the sun made its way across the sky. It wasn't until dusk that Sean suggested leaving the trail, and preparing to set up camp for the night.

They gathered up wood, and lit a fire within a small clearing in the underbrush. Sean stoked the fire, and sat in the dirt beside it, laying down his satchel. "I want you to stay by the fire for now, the evening beasts and bandits will be out until the night is full. I'm going to go scope things out, and make sure there aren't any nearby threats."

"All right," Brett said, he gathered up his own bag, and fell back on it as a pillow. He watched the shades of evening pull more toward the West, and closed his eyes as Sean's footsteps sounded off from farther and farther away. The evening seemed peaceful, if most of Sean's adventures were like this, Brett supposed he wouldn't mind tagging along so long as he was needed.

His calm thoughts were suddenly interrupted by more footsteps in the fallen leaves behind him. "Did you find anything interesting?" he asked. At the sound of his voice he heard the leaves crunch four quick times. Some four legged animal had been startled. Brett's eyes shot open, looking straight up into the dusk sky again, with fear.

He slowly rolled his neck to look behind him, as he heard a beastly growl from the intruder, about six feet away. He beheld a black furred wolf, easily his size, crouched low and ready to strike, having already discovered him due to his words.

Brett rolled to his stomach as slowly as he could, then rose up to his knees. He put one hand out in front of him to give the wolf something non vital to chew on should it pounce before Sean came back. Brett then rose to his feet, still going slowly; the wolf was neither afraid nor calmed by his movements. It snapped its jaws, bearing the teeth that Brett had been keeping an unyielding eye on.

"Ssshhh," Brett said, terrified, racking his brain for anything he could think of to help him get out of this predicament.

The wolf seemed even more emboldened when he spoke again. It lowered its stance again and jumped. The next moment happened in a flash. Brett caught up with it again when he was again on the ground, with his back against the fire. The wolf had landed a foot away from him, with a yelp and a cough, blood fell to darken the dirt. Brett saw two arrows sticking out of its right side. He looked to his left, and saw two men covered in dirty, dented armor walk out from the woods.

The first man walked up to the wolf, which was struggling to stay on its feet, for the expert archers had pierced its vital organs. It looked to Brett, no longer angry, but clearly afraid. The man drew a sword and decapitated the wolf in a single swing of his sword. The severed head fell to the dirt with a thud.

"Who in their right mind sleeps on the floor of the brush at dusk when the beasts do their hunting!?" He bellowed at Brett.

"An idiot," the other man answered, walking behind Brett, and the fire. Brett turned to look at the man, and followed his gaze to Sean's satchel. He then knelt down beside it, flipping it open and peering inside.

"Uh, yeah," Brett said loudly, stepping up to his feet. He dusted himself off, and reached a hand out over the fire to shake the man's hand, and hopefully pull his attention away from Sean's bag. "Thank you; I don't know what I was thinking." The man did not look up from Sean's bag. Instead, the first man spoke up, sword still dripping blood in his hand.

"You're lucky we were following this guy," he said, drawing Brett's attention back to him, as he gestured to the wolf. "They don't get this big very often; his hide will fetch a nice price."

"I'm sure it will," Brett agreed, looking back to the man, who now held Sean's satchel upright, to get a better look inside.

"Hey, Johann, this bag's got to have three thousand Gold in it!" The kneeling man exclaimed.

"Bertrand!" shouted the man Brett assumed to be Johann. "That's incredibly rude! We don't steal from travelers!"

Bertrand sat the bag back down and stood up. Brett caught his eye, and saw a look of satisfaction; not the look you'd expect someone to have that had just been scolded.

"However," continued Johann. "We aren't so altruistic as to go around saving lives for free, boy."

"Oh…okay…" Brett said. Suddenly those thoughts he'd experienced only moments ago seemed centuries away. This was the world as it was, and it was terrifying.

"Three thousand Gold sounds like a good fee to pay your saviors," Johann said, turning to Brett.

"Oh, no no, that bag doesn't belong to me," Brett said, receiving a chuckle from the poachers.

"Oh?"

"No, it belongs to my friend," Brett said.

"We haven't seen anyone in these woods," Johann said. "I'm beginning to feel like you're lying to us, boy."

"No! He's around, here somewhere," Brett assured them nervously.

"Look, kid, Johann is right, we don't rob travelers. It's simple, you pay us the money I found in that bag for saving your life, or we are going to make you a permanent resident of this crappy patch of forest, and take the money then," Bertrand said. He scooped up the bag and tossed it to Brett. "Your choice."

Brett looked down to the bag in his hand, and thought very hard about handing it over.

 _Do not fear these men, Brett._ Alastor said. _Remember, I am with you._

 _I don't know what that is supposed to mean to me, but I'd sure love for you to show me._ Brett thought.

 _Throw the bag into the darkness, and brace yourself._

Brett did as he was told and threw the bag into the dark woods outside of the clearing.

Johann shook his head, almost sorrowfully. "The foolish choice, and with no weapon at all."

 _Okay, I'm bracing myself,_ Brett thought loudly.

 _Unfortunately,_ Alastor said as the men closed around him, with their weapons drawn. _This is going to hurt the first time._

Brett suddenly felt himself lift a few inches off the ground. The Dragoon Spirit pulled itself from his pocket and floated in midair a foot away from the center of his chest. The two poachers pulled back, and watched the spectacle that was about to unfold.

In an instant the clearing was illuminated in a bright violet. Brett kept his gaze on the shimmering Spirit. The pupil burst open with a fierce lightning bolt, which shot up into the sky, and struck down with immense force onto the Spirit.

"What the Hell is happening!?" Johann screamed. He heard a thud behind him, and spun around to see Sean standing there, with his satchel over his shoulder, and his arms crossed.

"The awakening of the second Violet Dragoon Spirit," he said above the noise, keeping his eyes on Brett. Johann's head snapped back to behold Brett again, just as the Violet Dragoon Spirit began to vibrate. The intensity of the vibrations began to increase, and electric discharge shot out in all directions. Suddenly, with the Spirit glowing brightly in its center, it lurched forward and imbedded it in Brett's chest.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" Brett screamed as it felt that the orb had sunk to the center of his torso, and began to grow, shocking him from the inside until it filled him to the tips of his fingers and toes. The pain was unbearable, and seemed to last an eternity.

Yet, with a bright flash, it was over. Brett fell to his knees with a metallic clang.

Clang?

He took a deep breath, and opened his eyes to behold his hands. His palms were clad in in armor up to the fingertips. Violet armor.

 _We are now one._ Alastor said.

Brett stood up, feeling a slight increase of weight in his back. He turned to behold two violet wings with green accents jutting out from his shoulder blades, with amber fins to complete them. He looked down to see thick chest armor, covered with ancient designs of unknown meaning, forming a brow over a single reptilian eye, yellow in color. The armor expanded toward his violet pauldrons covering most of his shoulders. His shin guards and gauntlets were thick metal, yet light as a feather. His boot came to a tip at the big toe, and at the heel, and all over the armor at joints and certain accent areas were portions of gold, with those same designs as on the chest.

Brett took a quick moment to look himself over, then he clenched his fists, and felt the raw power coursing through his muscles.

 _Raise your hand, Brett_. Alastor said. Brett obeyed him, and raised his right hand in the air. The golden eye in the center of his chest flashed another bolt of energy that arced to the palm of his hand, and grew in size, contouring in shape, until it popped, and dissipated, revealing a golden morning star, clasped in that hand. Spikes grew out from the weight at the end of the shaft, some oriented up, others back towards the handle. The shaft at the base of the weight showed the spikes of the Violet Dragon, whose tail twisted with the gold of the shaft down to the leather of the grip. Brett lowered his hands and looked to the two men that had just threatened his life.

"Reckoning hour," Brett said. A bolt of lightning pierced the clouds above them, and came crashing down in the blink of an eye upon the poachers, who fell, smoking to the earth below them.

"Very promising," Sean mused, stroking his chin.

Brett felt the energy pour from in an instant, which left him dizzied. He fell back to a leather clad knee, as his armor had dissipated in an instant. His consciousness soon followed the way of his armor, and he fell to the dirt, face down.

Sean rolled him over, and propped up his head. He then wrapped his hand around the morning star that the Dragon had bestowed upon him, and nudged it to his side. "Sleep well, Dragon knight." The Dragoon spirit shimmered in response.

Sean turned, and tossed another log on the fire. He then spun around quickly at the sound of more footsteps, and drew his own sword.

"What in the world was all that light and ruckus!?" the taller of the two new men blurted at the sight of Sean. He had a spear holstered behind his back, and was the taller of the two. He had short brown hair and blue eyes, and similar leather armor to Brett's. The second man had nearly black hair. He was considerably shorter, but a much thicker build, as if he'd spent his entire life on a farm; he bore only wrist and shin guards made of simple steal. A scimitar hung from his belt.

"A Dragoon," Sean said simply.

The two men's eyebrows perked simultaneously, they dropped their luggage, and weapons, dawned a smile, and sat down next to the fire.

"I'm Robert," said the tall one.

"I'm Ben," said the other. "Tell us everything you saw!"

Author's Note: Our Dragoon travelers have already defeated the first obstacles on their journey. They now have only three days to search the forests before them for Feyrbrand's resting place, and who could these new arrivals to their campfire be? Find out next chapter, thank you all for reading, now please review! We beg you!


	4. Two New Companions

Chapter Four: Two New Companions

The intrusive beast was skinned and roasted on the now roaring fire, and the bodies of the poachers and would-be thieves were buried outside the clearing, where Sean had just finished telling a brief tale of the night's events. Ben and Robert sat wide eyed.

"So there's ANOTHER Violet Dragoon?" Robert asked.

"And you got his Spirit from the Dragon corpse from the ruins at Doel's castle?" Ben confirmed.

"Yes, and yes." Sean said.

"So what do you guys intend to do?" Robert asked.

"For the time being, find as many more as we can," Sean answered.

"Whoa," was all the men could bring themselves to say.

"What are you two doing out in the forest?" Sean asked.

"Honestly we don't know," Ben said. "We had that conversation earlier. Robert owns a weapon's shop in Seles, and I inherited my parents' farm outside the town. We both grew up in Seles, and got sick of seeing the same thing every day. We both set aside some time off to just explore the forest two days ago."

"Well what a coincidence," Sean said, looking up to the stars as he pulled the beast from the fire, and prepared it to serve.

Brett stirred and rolled over, drawing all of their attention for a moment, but his slumber was uninterrupted.

"What about you?" Ben asked.

"We have to get to Seles within three days, and Brett and I are using the other two we'll actually need to try to find the corpse of Feyrbrand," Sean said. "He was a Wind Dragon, the vassal of the Jade Dragon. He fell in this forest, by Dart Feld's hand, but was left there, so his Spirit hasn't been harnessed."

"We'll help!" Robert exclaimed.

"…You will?" Sean asked, perplexed.

 _Why are you telling these men so much!?_ The Divine Dragon roared in Sean's head, unable to bear Sean's divulgence any longer.

 _Think about it, if I keep these men nearby, I can judge their character before too long, perhaps one of them will be chosen by Feyrbrand. Maybe they will just want to help us, once they see things from our perspective,_ Sean thought in response.

 _And if they don't?_

 _We both know I'll do what I have to do to ensure the success and security of our endeavor,_ Sean thought.

"Do you mind?" Sean asked. "It'd be nice to increase the odds of finding his body, and who knows, maybe a bearer as well.."

Ben and Robert's eyes perked, and they looked at each other, excited by the prospect of possibly being chosen by the spirit of a Dragon.

"Definitely!" they both exclaimed.

"Great, well let's turn in after we eat, and we should arrive in the general area that the Dragon fell around noon tomorrow if we get a move on at dawn," Sean said. At that, he laid down, and Ben and Robert ate and went to sleep. 

Brett was woken by a shake to his shoulders from what was probably the deepest sleep he'd ever experienced in his life. He bolted up to his feet, and then off of them. When he landed he looked up to see Sean standing in front of him, looking satisfied. He said nothing, so Brett felt the need to begin the conversation.

"I'm a Dragoon," he said awkwardly.

"Indeed you are," Sean said. He turned, revealing the two new companions, "These are Ben and Robert, they were attracted by your spectacle last night. We ate the wolf that tried to kill you, and they're going to help us try to find the Spirit of Feyrbrand."

"Ah, nice to meet you," Brett said. He was relieved when he received two friendly hellos in return, rather than the gruff and domineering tones he'd received from the poachers the night before. "Where are those two poachers?"

"You killed them, they're buried about thirty feet that way," Sean said, gesturing.

"I did what now?"

"You killed them, I believe your spell's name was 'Reckoning Hour'" Sean said.

That hit Brett like a ton of bricks. He stumbled backwards a little, light headed from the revelation that he was now a murderer. "I….killed them?"

"You killed them."

"Oh, by Soa," Brett said, scratching the back of his head. He began to look downward, but Sean put his hand up.

"Don't do that. They were going to kill you, and you would have been powerless to do something about it," he said.

"How do you know?"

"I was watching," Sean said calmly. "I would have intervened if you were actually in trouble, but the Dragon had you well taken care of. Life is cheap out here in the wilderness, if it wasn't the wolf, it would have been them. Since it wont be them, we'll just have to see what tries to kill you today." At that he turned and picked up his satchel. "Are you ready?"

Brett was dumbfounded. He'd been raised to respect life in all ways, and his Dragon had even said that he enjoyed that aspect of him. Was he truly supposed to just shrug off the fact that the ground nearby held two hearts that no longer beat?

 _You must not fret those men,_ Alastor spoke. _Sean is not lying, those men would have killed you, there is no doubt of that. If their lives were spared, they may have reported you, or worse, hunted you. I cannot protect you if you are asleep, which is likely when they would have attacked you. Either way, their lives were folly. You merely saved yourself._

Alastor's words comforted Brett slightly, he wasn't sure if it was Alastor's actual emotions making him calm or his words, but it was a relief to know that no one viewed him as a murderer. He was sure to keep contemplating this as time went on, but for now, the mission was still at hand.

The four men gathered their luggage and weapons, and took to the forest, where Sean led the way southeast. After a few hours, Sean climbed up a tree and began to look around.

"Here is where we should split up, everyone can cover some ground. The Dragoon's journey led them this way over six hundred years ago, so if you come across fallen trees, that are completely overgrown, with slashes, or unusual looking breaks, that's where you want to start looking harder," he instructed. "Brett and I will use our Dragoon Spirits to get a general direction."

Sean dropped down and pulled out the Divine Dragoon Spirit, and Brett mimicked his movements. Each heard their Dragons' voices in unison.

 _South._

Ben followed Sean, and Robert followed Brett, and they set off to begin looking. Robert and Brett began chit chatting, mostly about the businesses they ran, as an hour or so passed, and found that they had quite a few ethical business motives in common. Sean and Ben, however, seemed to get along better by their preference to put their heads down and work when there was something to be accomplished. The hour went by, and they regrouped to consult the Dragons again.

 _I sense him nearby, we are close. I would reach out, but his Spirit is so faint I fear he wouldn't even sense me,_ said the Divine Dragon. _He's gone into a deep slumber, from being so stagnant for so long._

 _It must be torture to be trapped inside your body for so many years,_ Sean thought.

"This is hopeless!" Robert said, throwing his hands into the air. "How are we supposed to find the body of a Dragon, six centuries post mortem, in this giant forest, that would camouflage him even if he was alive and moving!?" He began to step back, shouting into the tree line. "Where are yo-!?"

Suddenly he fell backwards over a large tree trunk. "OW! DAMN!"

Brett stepped up onto the trunk, and reached down for Rob's hand to pull him up to his feet. Rob took the lift, and dusted himself off. "Thanks," he said, but looked to Brett to see Brett looking down at the tree they were standing on, perplexed. The tree was covered completely in moss, and ivy. Yet through the leaves Brett could see splinters of wood in one, two…four places, running a span of about fifteen feet.

"Something big knocked this tree over, and judging by the growth around it… it was a long time ago." Robert said.

"Six hundred years ago," Ben said confidently. "Give or take a few decades."

"What makes you say that?" Sean said, following Ben's gaze. Near the top of the tree, there was an ivory horn protruding from the greenery. "Ah." They all began pulling back at the overgrowth, and began slowly revealing a monstrous skeleton underneath the trunk of the fallen tree.

"That's a Dragon," Ben said.

"That's Feyrbrand, the green tusked Dragon," Sean said.

"How…. Do we get him out from under the tree?" Brett asked. At that, Sean removed his necklace, and set the Divine Dragon Spirit on the bones.

"We'll let the Divine Dragon take care of that," Sean said. At that the Spirit began to glow, dimly at first, but increasing in intensity by the second. Soon all four of them needed to shield their eyes from the light. Sean could hear the effort of the Divine Dragon within his mind. This process took a great deal of his power the last time he'd created a Spirit from the Vassal Violet Dragon's dormant body. He would need time to recover afterward.

After a few moments, the light died down, and suddenly the tree trunk shifted and sunk as the bones beneath it dissolved. When the light died down Sean reached down and picked up his Spirit in one hand, and a sickly green Spirit in the other.

 _It is done,_ The Divine Dragon said. Sean could feel the weariness in his voice. _He will help us, but does not sense a bearer he prefers here. He would prefer someone more willful and voracious._

"Well Feyrbrand doesn't see anything he prefers in anyone here," Sean relayed. Ben and Robert's shoulders sagged.

"Oh well, I suppose we were just glad to help," Ben said. "I can honestly say I enjoyed it."

"Same here," Robert agreed.

"Well you're welcome to come with us to…" Sean trailed off. His eyes shot up, as the wind above the trees picked up, pulling leaves off and up into the sky. "GET DOWN!" He bellowed, and shoved all three of his companions off of the sunken tree, and into cover beside it as a tempest tore from the skies down into the area of wood. Sean grabbed his sword and Spirit.

 _Can you fight?_ Sean thought to his Dragon.

 _I need time,_ The Dragon admitted.

 _How much, that was a magical attack._

 _A few moments more and I can be of some magical aid._ The Divine Dragon said.

"Brett, grab your morning star. Ben and Robert, are you proficient with those?" he asked, pointing to Robert's spear and Ben's scimitar. He received to nervous yeses in response. "Good, you're going to need them."

Before anyone could ask why, a green and yellow light tore into the woods, ripping trees and shrubbery away from the epicenter that was their landing site. The light shined brightly and died out. Ben, Robert and Brett peeked over the tree trunk, beholding two figures, in shimmering armor. Sean was slightly elevated above them, getting a better look.

The Jade Dragoon, Marcus Orieles, The High Knight of the Basil Knighthood and personal warfare consultant to the King of Serdio, stayed elevated in this dark green armor, with wooden accents, which were also reflected in the two daggers he held in his hands. His brother, Balkan, loomed beside him in the bulkier Golden Dragoon armor; with a mace dangling in his hand. Their wings beat in unison, and their eyes scanned the area.

"We know you are here, Sean Manifeld!" Bellowed Marcus. Balkan pat his left palm with the weight of the mace. "Get out here and face us!"

Brett looked to Sean, who seemed to be calculating the situation in front of him. He didn't seem afraid, more frustrated that they had been interrupted. Suddenly he slumped down, and gestured for the others to follow his lead.

"Are you alone!?" Sean yelled in response.

"We thought that when you intruded upon our last meeting that two of us were enough to handle you!" Balkan taunted.

"So you rushed right out here for little old me?" Sean asked. "No back up plan? No reserves?"

"As my brother said, we only need the two of us. You barely escaped with your life when we saw you last. I don't know what you're planning to do to interfere with us, but it ends here, right now." Marcus yelled.

Sean looked to his companions. "Anyone else tired of the smack talk?" Before anyone could answer, or protest, he hopped up onto the tree, Claymore in hand and pointed to the intruders. "Coming here without reserves, spur of the moment. That was the mistake I made last time. The big difference between you two and I is that I lived to learn from it. I doubt the two of you will be so lucky."

At that, Sean threw a magical item from his satchel that popped and flashed brightly, distracting the two Dragoon attackers, and Brett, Robert and Ben looked on as Sean leapt inhumanly high. He pulled back his Claymore for a mighty swing…

Author's Note: Hey all, we're sorry this took so long to update. Work's been crazy, and the computer's been finicky. While we were waiting we started thinking about where this story was going, and decided to not let this chapter only be filler. SO! Our heroes and their new friends seem to be pinned down by two experienced and malicious Dragoons, and Sean's Dragon is out of commission for the time being. What will happen next?! Review, and we'll hurry to let you know! Thanks again!


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